


love like an ache in the jaw

by captainjamesteekirk



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), Disney - All Media Types, The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainjamesteekirk/pseuds/captainjamesteekirk
Summary: "So, what you're saying is," said Mal, "That if we date, all of the things that we just complained about would somehow be fixed?'"Pretendto date, yes," Harry answered, still dangerously twirling a pair of scissors with his index finger. "Pretend is the key word here. Don't flatter yourself, sweet cheeks. You're not really my type."





	love like an ache in the jaw

**Author's Note:**

> title from "sweet dreams, TN" by the last shadow puppets.

It’s perfect. So _stupidly_ perfect, that Mal doesn’t believe it at first.

As soon as Ms. Dumont’s words leave her perfect mouth, hanging awkwardly in the air, Mal immediately barks out an ugly sound.

(That could possibly be a laugh, but she refuses to believe that it sounds like _that_.)

Mal is about to comment on _why_ the need to do this, _Ms. Dumont_ , instead of focusing on fixing what’s wrong in the public education system, a system that has failed entire generations, not just theirs, but the girl that sometimes sits next to her in Algebra class (Evita Arnold?) is crying, and _what the hell_.

Mal doesn’t like being speechless. Speechless is the exact opposite of what she is; she’s always confronting useless, so-called professors that think that popping a CD into the dusty DVD and dragging the 60 pound TV into the classroom is the totally valid equivalent of teaching, always sure to make a point about Mr. Portillo’s bald spot (which earns her detention _every single time_ , and she knows that her comments are way too mean, —not his fault that he’s been balding since birth— but ever since he said he’s a proud Republican, Mal can’t really pass up the opportunity of getting on his nerves), always protesting against the school and the issue of the day (“No paper towels in the bathroom? Well, I say we all use the teacher’s bathroom for the rest of the day! Who’s in, kiddos?”). The point it: Mal is never speechless, she doesn’t like it, and most importantly, she can’t be it, so _why the hell is she speechless right now_.

Ms. Dumont’s expression softens, and she gently squeezes the girl’s shoulder. Is it Evelyn Arnold? Her last name is Arnold, Mal’s sure of that: the way too tired joke of shouting “Hey, Arnold!” in her terrible impression of Helga is ingrained in her mind.

“You can say no, if you want. It’s okay if you don’t want to leave your friends behind, Ms. Arnold,” Ms. Dumont reaches for her husband’s hand. “We know how important school is to all of you. To teenagers, in general. We understand that changing schools will be tough, that is if you decide to go through with this, but I want you to know that we’ll be with you in every step of the way.”

Arnold looks up _so fast_ that it gives Mal whiplash, and for fuck’s sake, how is her electric blue eyeliner still impeccable?

“Are you kidding?” Arnold asks, and Mal was silently expecting a verbal smack down right there, which is why she chokes on absolutely nothing when she says, smiling, “This is all I have wished for since I was born, Ms. Dumont, these are tears of _joy_. Yes. Of course. Absolutely. Get me out of here.” Ms. Dumont smiles at that, and is quite possibly about to start an inspiring speech about opportunities when the ripped guy that’s always wearing tank tops interrupts.

“Me too, count me the f-, uh, I mean, I’m in, Ms. Dumont and Mr. Archibald,” the ripped guy says.

“Count me in, too,” Carlos (Mal knows at least one name, okay, she’s not a total asshole) says, while nervously picking at his nails. “No way I’m passing this up.”

There’s an awkward silence, and suddenly everybody is looking at her, and Mal is everything _but_ speechless, so she says, “Sure. I’m in too.”

(Which was, now that she thinks of it, really stupid.)

“We’ll need your parents’ permission, of course,” says Ms. Dumont, who seems to have returned to her usual composed self after the obligatory emotional moment passed, and Mal watches as she reaches for her women’s cream leather briefcase, that of course matches her equally expensive looking cream pencil dress, and pulls out four paper folders. She hands them out to each one of them, and Mal accepts it with a tight smile that must look horrendous. Mal watches Carlos tense at that, and she has the sudden urge to squeeze his knee, to reassure him that _hey, she gets it too._ “The school has already given us copies of all the documents that we need to be able to transfer you, but we do need to know if it is okay with them if you attend St. Cross.”

“What’s this?” the ripped guy asks as he eyes his folder, and Mal’s thankful because she seriously cannot bring herself to talk right now, much less form questions that would actually matter.

“A transfer request form,” Mr. Archibald says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We need a parent of yours to sign it to fully complete the process.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same hour to pick the forms up,” Ms. Dumont says.

There’s, _wait for it_ , another awkward silence as Ms. Dumont stands up, and the chair creaking as she did it made it even worse.

“Well, it has been an honor to meet you all,” she says, as she straightens with her manicured hands the few wrinkles of her dress. "Like I said, I'll meet you here tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you all again."

"Wait, Ms. Dumont," Arnold stands up, her blue hair tied back into an extreme ly high ponytail bouncing, "Thank you so much for this opportunity that you have given to me, to us."

Ms. Dumont smiles at that, and stretches out a hand for Arnold to shake. "Please, call me Belle. And Adam," she glances over her shoulder, looking at her husband, "There's no need for formality here."

**Author's Note:**

> so, au where the VKs get a scholarship to assist a super prestigious private high school, so naturally they're bullied and good ol' classism against the kids occur. i guess it's sorta like a normal version of descendants, but gayer and darker because ao3 isn't disney.
> 
> the summary will make sense on the next chapter, i promise, the only reason why this shirt scene is separate is because i didn't really like how it fit in with the first chapter! you can pretty much tell how the characters are here: they aren't close friends by any means, so adapting will be a little tough for them.
> 
> if you liked this comments and/or kudos are highly appreciated!


End file.
